Ode to the game of GOLF

In my hand I hold a ball ....
white and dimpled, rather small

Oh, how bland it does appear...
this harmless looking little sphere

By its size, I could not guess

The awesome strength it does possess
But since I fell into its spell I've wandered through the fires of hell ...
My life has not been quite the same ...

Since I chose to pay this stupid game It rules my mind for hours on end

A fortune it has made me spend....
It has made me swear and yell and cry I hate myself and want to die
It promises a thing called par If I can hit straight and far....

To master such a tiny ball should not be very hard at all.

But my desires the ball refuses And does exactly like it chooses
It hooks and slices Dribbles and dies And even disappears before my eyes
Often it will take a whim To hit a tree or take a swim....
With miles of grass on which to land It finds a tiny patch of sand Then has me offering my soul If only it would find the hole....
It's made me whimper like a pup And swear that I will finally give it up...

And take a drink to ease my sorrow ....

But the ball knows ....

I will be back tomorrow !!!!

(Contributed by Uki)
Note : This Ode was taken from a scrap of old sport page of a magazine of an unknown origin that I found while playing this "stupid game" at a club I don’t remember exactly where.